


Another Night In The Black Clinic

by Wallwalker



Series: HSO Bonus Round-Up [13]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, M/M, Slice of Life, cyborg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-15
Updated: 2012-06-15
Packaged: 2017-11-07 19:57:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wallwalker/pseuds/Wallwalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat's usually in bad shape when he comes back home, but Equius has never seen it this bad before. Except for the first time, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Night In The Black Clinic

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Bonus Round 1. Prompt was for flushed Karkat/Equius, Cyberpunk + Slice of Life.

It's late in the day when your matesprit slips back into your lab, and you know before even turning to look at him that he needs maintenance more than any of the cyborgs that you're currently working on. You can tell by the gait of his steps, the subtle clanking sound as he moves his arms to strip off his chameleon-cloak.

"On the table," you say, turning to look at him - and yes, he's been damaged, perhaps worse than you've ever seen him. What has he been doing to himself? "Now."

"Yes, _thank you,_ Equius, I'm absolutely fucking dandy, what have you been up to today?" The sarcasm, however, lacks its usual bite, and he makes his way to the table even as he's responding back to you in his usual vulgar fashion. You start to stammer out something, but then he looks at you and half-grins. "Oh, don't you dare start apologizing to me right now, horsebrain, I get it. Okay? Just... give me a second."

"I could carry you, if you would like," you offer, mostly out of courtesy.

"You know what?" He relaxes, rubbing his leg. "That sounds like a fucking _fantastic_ idea right about now."

Oh, fiddlesticks. Karkat never accepts that sort of help. He must be seriously injured, for him to admit that he needs someone to carry him; his stubbornness is one of his most defining features.

You're gentle with him as you lift him, careful to keep your unnaturally strong hands away from what flesh he has left. Touching him is a delicate balancing act, avoiding the parts that you might bruise with a gentle pat and concentrating on the enhancements that you've made. Your own enhancements have made your life difficult - you really shouldn't have done your first muscleboost job on yourself, but you did, and you'll be paying for it for the rest of your life, or at least until you can find someone better than you are that you'd trust to try to reverse it.

"Rough job tonight," Karkat says, as you lay him down on the table. "Got caught at the end. Had to... you know what, I don't want to fucking talk about it. Check the camera feed if you really wanna know."

"Later," you say. If nothing else it'll give you some idea of what other modifications you need to make. When you first met Karkat he was badly injured, beaten to within an inch of his life, no doubt because of his bright red mutant blood. He would have died, if not for your help; you replaced damaged flesh with cybernetics, transfused him with artificial blood to replace the blood he'd lost, painstakingly rebuilt him until he could walk again.

You wonder why he stays with you, sometimes. You would have accepted it if he had decided to leave, to make his own way in the shadows of Alternia. Your own clientele tends to be from those shadows, and business has been rough lately, what with the increased measures that the government are taking against illegal modifications, so there's little enough that you feel you have to offer. But when you ask him why he just grabs you by your one good horn and plants a kiss on your mouth and grins at you. There doesn't tend to be much talking after that.

Your hands do not shake as you repair him again, turning off pain receptors so that you can removed damaged pieces of equipment and replace them, changing settings and rewiring circuitry with nano-fine wire. You don't have to render him unconscious, at least, and he watches what you do to him with a curious expression. (It differs little from his usual cranky face, but you've been with him long enough that you can tell the difference.) 

"For what it's worth," he says when you're nearly done, "it was a really good night. I've got us enough creds to last a couple perigees, and no trackers."

You shake your head. "I must admit, I'm impressed. I hope that I remain so after I watch the footage."

"Oh, you will be. Someday people are going to be making damned action movies about me." He gives a lopsided grin.

"Yes, well," you say, "I would recommend that you spend less time working, then, and more time planning for your films. I would prefer that you do not strain yourself, because there are parts that I must procure before I can fully complete the repairs."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on tankrest. Fine." He shakes his head. "I'll do it, but you'd better fucking join me."

You smile slightly. You can feel the beads of sweat on your forehead already; you'll have to be careful, but that's always the case, anyway. "Of course."


End file.
